A/N: Sorry for the delay. I've been juggling further vet issues with cats, issues with me, issues with the HVAC system, technical support chasing gremlins in the work computer - plus one delightful socially distanced and precautions-in-place mini choir rehearsal, the first group singing I've had in months. That was well worth the round trip driving to get there. I have missed music tremendously. We're going to try this mini group (again, with precautions in place) getting together every other week for now; all there were going into choral withdrawal. Anyway, life may be nuts, but the story is fine. It is all blocked out and definitely will be finished. It does have plenty to come yet.
Somebody suggested a story (or stories) from the POV of Thomas' cats, like the one from Belle and from Ember. That's a cute idea. I have no control over my muse and don't know if she'll seize it or not, or what the time table will be if she does, but I like it.
Next up, the girls. I know some of you love the chapters with the girls especially.
(H/C)
Cuddy was just waking up as House and Thomas reentered her room. She opened her eyes with a guilty expression; even under these circumstances, she didn't feel right lying here in bed and taking a nap in the middle of the day. She promptly spotted the two main men in her life coming through the door and smiled at them, then looked more closely. "What is it?"
House sighed. "Something came up. I'll tell you all about it, but not right now."
"What came up?" she demanded.
He shook his head. "Lisa, this isn't the time. You're in pain and on meds, and right now wouldn't be the best time to get into it. Wait a few days. Trust me."
"Is it something with the girls?" She looked from him to Thomas, not that that gave her much help. It was her husband's expression and body language that had clued her off immediately to a problem. Thomas was a spectacular actor and could put on a front better even than House. Right now, he looked absolutely as usual, pleasant, concerned for her, but she knew the stubbornness she would find underneath, a stubbornness he had passed along to his son. He apparently knew about the new issue, but he wouldn't be a source of information on it.
"No," House reassured her. "The girls are fine, the hospital is fine. Everything is fine except for you and your ankle."
"And you're fine?" she asked, noticing he had left himself off that list. Not that that necessarily had special significance to this mystery; House still tended to rate himself down any list of priorities when he was stressed.
"Nothing's wrong with me or anybody in the family. It's okay, Lisa. If it weren't for your ankle, I would tell you today; this is just the wrong timing. Trust me."
"When will the right timing be?" she pushed.
"After surgery and once the pain and the meds have started to decrease," House promised. "Probably three or four days." He still wasn't looking forward to the conversation then, but he thought she would understand why he had kept the Christmas card to himself. Hopefully, anyway. He hadn't wanted to have an in-depth discussion on those cards, either one of them, had just wanted to process it all himself for a while, getting used to the new normal. Part of him also had worried that maybe he hadn't done this forgiveness thing right, and he wanted to run some lab tests on it before getting her all excited. No point in having her proud of him for something that turned out to be less than what he said it was. He still didn't want to discuss those cards, but that choice was being taken out of his hands. He knew the old man could keep the secret, but he also knew that this secret didn't need to be kept any longer. Before talking to Stacy, he definitely needed to bring his wife up to date.
And what if he hadn't in fact done this forgiveness thing right? He'd asked himself that a time or two since meeting Stacy in the lobby. Up until this morning, he felt like he had. The bitterness, the constant gnawing over her decisions (and Thomas') really seemed to be gone. He did feel better, like he had put down a heavy pack he had been carrying along with him for years. But he really had not wanted to speak to Stacy this morning, and when caught by surprise in the lobby, his hackles had gone up like Belle's fur when she met something unwelcome. Did that mean he hadn't forgiven her after all?
Cuddy was studying him, and he realized that he had lost himself in thought. If she had replied to his last statement, he hadn't heard it. He firmly snapped himself back to the present and moved down to the foot of the bed, removing the ice packs, studying the ankle. "Swelling still there, but it's stopped increasing. The ice is helping. Putting surgery off a day while it's on strict ice and elevation will really make the operation go better, Lisa."
Behind him, Thomas moved over and picked up Cuddy's hand, giving it a squeeze, and she looked up to see a clear silent message in his eyes. It's okay, Lisa. That helped reassure her somewhat; she was now starting to get worried about her husband, not simply frustrated in her curiosity. Whatever was on his mind, he was definitely chewing it over himself, even if he wouldn't tell her yet. She hoped he wouldn't tie himself into too many knots before he could talk to her. Maybe he could talk to Jensen. That was a thought.
"Greg," she said, "I just realized that this is Thursday. So tomorrow is Friday."
He nodded. "I need to cancel our appointments. I'd already thought of that, just hadn't had a chance to."
"Mine, yes. But if I'm having surgery in the morning, no reason you couldn't go up to see Jensen in the late afternoon. Or have it by phone, maybe. I'll be out of anesthesia and fine by that point."
He shook his head fiercely. "Nope. I'm cancelling both of them."
"I was just -" She paused, wondering how to diplomatically suggest this.
He heard the thought and objected promptly. "No. Whatever this unspecified thing is, you will be the next person I tell about it. Period." He owed her that much as an apology for keeping the cards from her in the first place. She was first on his list of people to discuss Stacy with. House looked at Thomas, who wasn't doing anything but standing there, and wrenched the subject to another track. "About talking to the girls this afternoon, any more suggestions?"
Thomas joined the discussion for the first time since they had come back from lunch. "Just reassure them as soon as you tell them. She was hurt; she'll be fine. They will be worried, but they'll believe you."
Cuddy looked down at her ankle again, wishing once more for a redo on that journey up the stairs this morning. "You could call if you want. Once you've told them, I mean. I know you'll be bringing them for a visit, but maybe talking to me right then would help."
House nodded, his mind totally on his daughters now, leaving Stacy for the moment to the side.
(H/C)
A few hours later, House made another check of the weather - 38 degrees now - and then left the room with Cuddy's "be careful" ringing in his ears. As soon as he was gone, she looked over at Thomas. She knew better than to ask for details of the secret, but she still was worried about her husband. "Thomas, is he really all right?"
"He's fine, Lisa. I'm sure he'll talk to you as soon as he thinks the timing is right medically."
She drummed her fingers momentarily on the bed rail before she realized what she was doing and stilled them. "I can't believe I fell like that. I should have had my hand on the rail, and I shouldn't have kept going forward while twisting to look back."
Thomas grinned at her. "Did I ever tell you about climbing the tree in our back yard?"
"No. When you were a kid, you mean?"
"Nope, I didn't even have that excuse. I was a full-grown adult, retired from the Marines, and we had just moved to St. Louis. There was a wonderful tree in our back yard. Tim was talking about what a great climbing tree it was; he'd always been part monkey. He was a teenager, starting to grow out of tree climbing, but still, he went up into the lower branches a few times. So one afternoon, he and Emily were off somewhere, and I got to looking at it and decided that he was right, it was the perfect climbing tree. So up I went, just once, all alone and unobserved, so that I could experience it."
Cuddy was smiling herself by this point. "How old were you?"
"39. I was still in good shape, but 39 no matter how you slice it isn't the same as 10. I was about 20 feet up in it when I slipped. Made a few desperate grabs along the way, but all I managed to do was skin myself up on bark while slowing the fall a little. The last 10 feet were free fall, and then I forgot to land and roll. And remember, I had a good bit of training in combat techniques. I was supposed to know how to take a fall. But like an idiot, I put my hands out to stop myself."
She winced in sympathy. "Did you break your wrist?"
"Yes, nice clean snap, right across the radius. But you know what was worse than the pain?"
She considered and came up with the answer easily. "Admitting what you'd been doing."
He nodded. "I got it from all sides. Emily, Tim, the ER staff. I even heard the nurse snickering outside the door after she'd left the room." He extended his left wrist to her. "But you know what, Lisa? It was fine. It all healed up, and while I thought I might a few times, I didn't actually die of embarrassment over such a stupid mistake. I'm still around all these years later."
She couldn't get rid of the mental image of her father-in-law, age 39, scrambling up a tree. "Thanks, Thomas."
He smiled at her. "It's going to be all right, Lisa. We've all made stupid mistakes, and most of us have lived through them."
Outside down the hallway, House met Kutner getting off the elevator just as he was going to get on. He paused. "Problem with the patient?"
"No, we have it. He's starting to respond to treatment." Kutner hesitated, then took the plunge, dropping his voice to a near whisper. "I just wanted to ask you, did you take your meds?"
House's first impulse on this stressful day was to lash out. Yes, he had given Kutner permission to check up on him, but that was on busy cases, with situations involving work. "YES, I -" He skidded to a halt in mid sentence, suddenly running over the last few hours. He remembered taking a round of pills at lunch, but the methadone, which was on a different schedule, had been due at 2:00. He fished his pill container out of his pocket and studied it. He had the compartments taped shut now, a precaution against taking them without realizing it, and sure enough, the tape over that compartment was undisturbed.
Kutner at once melted away, not waiting for a reply. "I hope Cuddy gets better, House. Got to go check the labs." He disappeared at full speed down the hall. House tucked the pill container back in his pocket and entered the elevator.
The weather was rapidly improving, the world simply wet now, not glazed. He walked to his car, and then, once in the driver's seat, he took the methadone. Next, he pulled out his cell phone. He shot off a quick text to Jensen: Lisa broke ankle this morning, fell on the stairs at hospital. Short operation tomorrow to put in a screw. Won't be coming up for appt. About to go inform the girls now; wish me luck. He hit send and then called Patterson's office, speaking to her secretary. Just as he ended that conversation, the phone chirped, and he switched over to see Jensen's reply.
Let me know how the operation goes tomorrow, not a session, just concerned. As for the girls, you're the best person to tell them. No luck needed; just be yourself.
Just be yourself. He tossed those words around for a few moments, then turned on Victory. More slowly than usual, he drove home.
